A Light To Guide
by Annaicuru
Summary: Legolas is faced with saying his final goodbye to his most beloved friend Aragorn before he departs for Valinor. No stated slash though can be read as such. Constructive criticism welcomed!


v **Note: **all speech in _italics _is in Sindarin.

v The word _gwador _is Sindarin for 'brother' especially in the sense of brothers not by blood but by platonic love and companionship.  The relationship depicted in this fanfic is not necessarily anything more than platonic in any way.  It can be read to mean whatever you want.

v This fic contains minor spoilers for Return of the King, and also spoilers for the Appendices of Lord of the Rings.

Reviews greatly appreciated especially constructive criticism!

I don't own any of the characters, or the setting.  Don't sue me.  I'm just borrowing from the imagination of an incredible man, so thanks to J. R. R. Tolkien!

I'd like to use this space to recommend a wonderful (but little known) LOTR fic called 'Not in Vain' by **Lucy Hale **here on fanfiction.net.  It's incredible so if you have a chance read and review.

And special thanks to **dragonfly **for beta-reading/editing this fanfic!

A Light To Guide By Annaicuru 

The eternal quiet of the chamber was deafening in the Elf's ears, it's peaceful coolness chilling to the bone.  The stone pillars appeared to move and ripple as his eyes filled with a wealth of tears, and the gloom that clung to the candle-free alcoves seemed to reach out to clasp him and hold him there forever.

'_I am an Elf!_'  He whispered desperately in his mother tongue to the shadows.  '_I am an Elf!  I am immortal.  I do not die.  You cannot have me like you have them._'

The shades seemed to recede, sliding back to hold their darkness over the tombs of Men they had stood vigil over for so long.  The Elf shivered and moved forwards, light boots treading silently along the single path through the accumulated dust of many generations.  He swung his head from side to side, the unfamiliar environment making him nervous.  He could sense death here, the death of many dozens of Men, the death so different from any the Eldar must bear.  No matter how much finery the Kings of Men rested here in, no matter how glorious was their death or how happy their life, this end was always the same for them.  It was empty and final, a bottomless abyss with no promises of anything to come but uncertainty.  This was not the place for him, one of the First Born.  This was the death-place of another people, he should not be here.  He should not have to visit a place which held a different terror from any he should ever have to face.

'_For me the glory of Aman,_' he whispered to himself comfortingly, but the words were empty in this dead chamber where such things were but a whisper and a promise for another people.  '_For me the Undying Lands and a ship over the sea, not a blind journey into a place no tales speak of._'

He came to his destination and knelt by the tomb, resting his hands on the somber cold of the carved stone.  There was no darkness here: not enough time had passed for forgetfulness to come.  Candlelight twisted over the carved visage of a once mighty King, bringing some cruel and taunting semblance of life to that wise face that would never shine with true existence again.  The sight summoned forth the tears from the Elf's eyes, and soon his cheeks were wet with silent, flowing sorrow.  The tears of the deathless fell onto the final effigy of a beloved mortal.

The Elf wept for all that might have been and all that once was, for the ways of the world and for the ways of his heart.  He wept for the final sundering of Elves and Men; for the cruel and bitter parting of two who had, for but a single breath of the world, been friends above all others.  He wept for Aman and he wept for this death house in the White City; he wept for the Man and he wept for himself.

When he could cry no more, he bowed his head till it rested on the smooth surface, and began to speak in the Common tongue of his dearest friend and most stalwart ally.  The forbidding room, containing many generations of death and tears just as his, echoed with the sound.

'Every day since that on which you chose to leave this Middle Earth for another place, I have wept for you.  I lie awake at night and wonder where you are, and what distant places you wander now that your footsteps no longer sound in the city of your ancestors.  I torture myself with cruel and beautiful memories of your face, your smile, and your laugh.  I meet your gaze in the eyes of your son, and hear your voice in the wind while its fingers tousle my hair as yours once did.  I cannot go a single day without closing my eyes at least once to picture you, and imagine you counseling me on how to act with all your wisdom.  Every arrow I loose from my bow is a reminder of the days I trained with you in the woods of Imladris, merely a moment ago by the reckoning of my people but many years ago by the counting of yours…

'You were the most beloved friend of all on these shores, even dearer to me than Gimli the Dwarf.  And now you and I are sundered by the gift of Ilúvatar…  And all I have left of you, most vibrant and yet transient Man, is some carved tomb of unforgiving stone.  And I can feel even as I stand here that it is empty as a void, and that none of your spirit rests here with your earthly remains.  I am speaking to naked stone, but for some reason it comforts me.  In truth, I have been separated from you, _gwador_, by a gap too great for any bridge to cross…'

He paused, and ran caressing fingers over the parts of marble that were carved as face and chest, almost as if trying to coax the lifeless surface to draw breath.  'And now you are gone, there is nothing to keep me here, no loving voice to drown out the whispers of the Sea in my mind.  I cannot follow you as your wife did.  The path that has been so blessed with you is barred to my feet.  Another way calls me, and it shall claim me, as you always so wisely said it would.'  He smiled a little at some sweet memory.  'It is too painful for me to stay here.  My heart aches with such agony as the First Born were never meant to know.  The very memory of you shall drive me away from the only place in which we ever were together.'

His voice hushed yet more, and bright blue eyes locked with the unseeing black orbs of the carven likeness of a great Man, perhaps the greatest who ever lived.  'The Eldar were not meant to allow themselves to love a Man, for it has always been said that the pain of the final parting should be too much.  I see now that those words were wise indeed.  But there is not one part of my being, Aragorn –' his breath caught on the name '– that regrets loving you with all my heart and soul.  This pain of leaving you, this agony that shall stay with me for ever more, is a thousand times worth bearing in return for having spent one lifetime of Men with you by my side as confidante and companion.'  He got up onto strong legs and looked over the tomb one more time.  A slight smile finally tickled his lips, but there was sadness there too.  'I cannot think of a higher mark of respect for a Man, Aragorn, than that five Elves – Arwen, Elladan, Elrohir, Elrond and I – were willing to bear the necessary pain for the rest of our lives to let ourselves love you absolutely.'

He leaned forward over the image, and kissed its lifeless forehead with all the tenderness in his ancient heart.  'We may not meet again,' he said as he straightened, 'now you and I are both traveling different ways and the time has come to say goodbye as I sail away across the Sea to my homeland.  But I shall never forget you, King Elessar, my greatest friend and my brother-in-arms, and in me your memory shall live on in my love for you, eternal and unfading.'

He turned, and without looking back walked from the tomb of his friend and the house of the death of Men.  The ageless, ever-young warrior passed the shadows without fear now, for his mind and heart were at rest at last and he was finally on his way to board a grey ship and head for the Light across the Sea, even as Aragorn had made a different journey.  And Legolas Thranduilion understood then for the first time why his friend had faced death unafraid, and why this parting should hold no fear for him either: he and Aragorn both carried their own light within them to light their way, the eternal and deathless love of each other.


End file.
